User blog:ISAAC Organization/The Little Things
Major Alexei Popovich is worried about his small Soviet space capsule. It seems to be drifting off course. He eyes the gimbals nervously, wondering just how soon he should report this to Baikonur Command. He knows if he waits too long, they will notice it on their monitors anyway. Better to say something now than to look foolish because they point it out to him first. Popovich switches his radio microphone over to hot, so it will automatically broadcast everything he says. He may need his hands free for course corrections soon. He takes a deep breath and focuses his mind on what he needs to say. "Baikonur Command, this is Vostok 7… come in…" He finishes his request and waits, but gets no reply. Checking his radio switches, he tries again. "Baikonur Command, this is Vostok 7… Come in…", he repeats, trying not to sound anxious. The seconds that follow seems like an eternity. A staticy voice comes over the radio speaker, breaking the nervous silence inside his space capsule. "This is Baikonur Command. We read you, Vostok 7. Go ahead…" "Baikonur Command, this is Vostok 7. Instrumentation shows that the capsule is going off course. I don't know why. Checking now. Standby..." He carefully but quickly begins to examine the dozens of dials, gauges and monitors. The further along he gets into the check procedure, the more worried he becomes. Nothing is showing abnormal or even remotely unusual. His eyes dart back to the gimbals and they indicate that his capsule is definitely going off course. Are the gimbals faulty? He asks himself. Checking his instruments again, in a matter of seconds he concludes that the gimbals are working properly. He is off course and he's also very close to beginning re-entry. If he's going to line up his space capsule to the correct re-entry trajectory angle, it needs to be soon. VERY SOON. "Baikonur Command. This is Vostok 7. The error in flight trajectory continues to increase. Unable to determine the cause. Requesting authorization to perform an unscheduled thruster burn to execute course correction." Alexei looks over his instrument panel carefully. Running the steps of the procedure for a course correction through his mind while he waits for approval. The retrorocket he needs to fire is part of a large separate equipment module, which is attached to the back of his Vostok capsule. He's done this procedure during training dozens of time, but that doesn't help. That was practice. This is real. And he's getting anxious from the silence on the radio. What's taking them so long? he wonders to himself. They know I need to do this. He waits. And waits. The seconds he waits seem to take forever. He decides to make the request again, but before he can, he gets approval. "Vostok 7... you are clear for immediate course correction maneuver. Perform as soon as you are able." Alexei goes to making the necessary pre-initiation settings to his instrumentation. He has to get this right the first time, so he's double checking everything. The radio bursts to life again. "Vostok 7... you are approaching scheduled re-entry routine. You are scheduled to jettison the equipment module in two minutes. Execute course correction when ready." Do they think I don't know that? he mumbles to himself. "Acknowledged, Baikonur Command. Course correction will begin on my mark…" Alexei's hands hurriedly find all the needed switches. Sweat is forming on his forehead as he makes all the control changes. "Course correction in three... two... one... MARK." Alexei braces his shoulders and stabs the ACTIVATE button. No subtle capsule vibration begins. No dull roar comes from the retrorocket of the equipment module attached to his tiny capsule. Only a low pitched whine can be heard for a few seconds. He stabs the ACTIVATE button again. And once more nothing but a few seconds of an soft whine is all he hears. He stabs the large square button again and again rapidly, even pressing it down and holding it in for a moment. Disgust sweeps over him and he feels like vomiting. "Vostok 7... we do not show that your thrusters are firing... have you begun course correction?" questioningly blares from the radio's speaker. He swallows hard and answers. "Yes, Baikonur Command. Several times. The thrusters refuse to fire. Standby. I am reviewing all systems," is his reply. Checking his instruments again, Alexei leans close over the control panel, studying each gauge and readout carefully. He notices that the thruster propellant indicator needle is quivering slightly. His eyes open wide. "God! Don't let it be that!" His mind screams as a horrible idea enters his thoughts. He knows he has to check. He doesn't want to, because he's terrified to think it might be true Slowly reaching up, Alexei grips the master instrumentation reset switch. Putting his fingers firmly on the large flip switch, he closes his eyes, mumbles an indecipherable prayer and pulls the large wide switch down with three fingers. All the lights go out immediately on the control panel. All of his instruments are temporarily dead. Everything is still and silent and dark inside his capsule. Every gauge reads zero. Only subtle shafts of sunlight flow in through the small round observation port to illuminate the interior of his Vostok capsule. His eyes remain on the observation port. In the darkness of his capsule, he can see the faint orange glow of the growing ionization field as it is just beginning to form around his tiny capsule. Worried, he pushes the reset switch back into the closed position, restoring power to his instruments. The dozens of tiny gauges, lights and monitors quickly pop back to life… all except the thruster propellant indicator. Its back-light glowing faintly, illuminating the gauge and the needle; but the needle rests at the bottom of the gauge, still on zero. Alexei taps firmly on the glass cover of the gauge, but the needle stays where it is... on empty. No thruster propellant. No fuel. The thought is horrifying. No wonder the thrusters don't fire. The soft whining sound he heard when he tried to fire them earlier must have been the fuel pumps running; trying to pump fuel that wasn't there. Alexei realizes what happened, and he feels like crying. The reason his Vostok capsule has drifted so far off course is from a fuel leak in the equipment module. The thruster valve must have frozen open slightly, letting all the priceless fuel spew out under pressure through the tiny opening; like holding your thumb over the open end of garden hose. The lateral force of the venting propellant has pushed his capsule off course. Now he has no propellant left and there is no chance of a course correction. It's too late. There's no time left now. He's entering the extreme upper limits of the atmosphere. With no course correction, Alexei knows the dire result. He looks around the inside of his capsule. This is where it ends. These are his last breaths, and his last moments alive. Valentina! His thoughts turn to his fiance. Her face. Her dark eyes. Her curly hair. She's so beautiful. She only puts up with me being a cosmonaut because I want it so much. Demetri and MaMa…, his little brother and mother. MaMa has had it so hard since PaPa passed. Demetri… I pray he helps MaMa with the garden… Alexei’s eyes grow weepy, but floating here in the zero-gravity of his capsule, his tears don't form. Using the back of his glove, he manages to wipe his eyes free of the half-formed tears. "Popovich...," the radio barks to life with the transmission from Baikonur Command. "... this is General Angeloff. You are beginning re-entry. We will lose communications with you soon. Jettison your retrorocket module at this time." Alexei’s eyes opened wide. Angeloff is the commander of the entire Baikonur Cosmodrome Space Complex, and he is addressing him directly. "Yes, sir." he replies obediently. Doing as he was ordered, he reaches down beside his seat and grabs the equipment module jettison lever. Firmly pushing in the safety button on the end, he then lifts the lever up using all his strength. He hears the bang of the explosive charge, which pushes his capsule away from the equipment module and he feels his capsule surge forward slightly. Checking his instruments, he knows it went exactly as it should. "Baikonur Command, equipment module separation successful." he reported. As soon as he finished transmitting, he received an unwanted reply. "Acknowledged, Vostok 7. As you know, you're capsule is coming in too steeply. We doubt the heat shield will hold…," a long silence followed. The space complex commander continued, "... and you know that protocol requires we close this radio channel…," and the commander's voice paused again. Alexei fights back the overwhelming urge to weep, then finishes General Angeloff’s sentence for him. "... protocol requires you to close this radio channel because I am going to die. The Kremlin doesn't want my last moments to be recorded. They don't want the world to hear my screams and cries of agony." Alexei looks back out the capsule window port, trying to brace himself for the words he will hear over the radio in just a moment. There will be an abrupt "goodbye"''and next they will say, ''"Baikonur Command out"; then he will be left alone to die in the silence of outer space. He hears several voices talking in the background near the general. He can picture General Angeloff in his mind. The general was a small, thin man, not very tall. Because he was so small statured, he never made it far in the Republic’s army, but he was very intelligent, and he had pushed incredibly hard to beat the Americans into space. Angeloff didn't need physical strength. Instead, he used his military genius and political intellect to make his way to the very top of the Russian space program. Baikonur Cosmodrome was his kingdom. He ruled there. He was THE man in charge. Other generals could come there, but Angeloff’s one-star on his collar outranked every four-star general that walked onto the base. He was literally and figuratively the KING of the castle Baikonur. The general spoke again. The radio was growing more staticy, but Alexei heard every word. "No, Alexei. I will NOT close this channel. You deserve better than that." He heard angry voices in the background, chastising the general. He heard the general’s voice barking orders to the men and women manning the Control Room. He heard the general order that all the doors to be locked. He next ordered that the entire space facility to be put on lockdown. Alexei didn't know much about what was going on back at Baikonur, but he knew that general was breaking orders and violating protocol. This might cost him his career. He didn't much care, but he was impressed. The general was in charge there and he was making sure everyone knew it. "Major Popovich," the general continued. "As your commanding officer, I hereby promote you to the rank of Colonel..." Alexei heard another angry exchange of words break out near the general, someone was objecting to what the general had said about the promotion, then he heard the general’s voice shout, very angrily, "Shut up, General Minsky. This is MY Cosmodrome and Popovich is MY cosmonaut. As the commander of THIS facility, I am the ultimate authority here and I have the final say. Shut your damn mouth, Minsky, or I will have you shot for treason for DISOBEYING MY ORDERS. Is… that… clear?" Over the radio he could hear the complete and utter silence inside the Control Room far below him down on Earth and he was actually beginning to grin. He could imagine the anger on General Angeloff’s face, the disgust on General Minsky’s face, and the shock on everyone else's. He had never heard anyone pull that much rank on a general before. If only he could see it. The general continued, "Colonel Popovich…," The general loudly pronounced the title Colonel and he was sure it angered Minsky all the more. "Colonel Popovich, in accordance with your field promotion... and for your bravery in the face of danger… I swear to you that your fiance, Valentina, and your family will be taken care of..." Tears formed heavily in Alexei's eyes as the general spoke. His family was secure. He took comfort in that. "... and your retirement as Colonel means your pay is increased by double. Your family will get your retirement pay…" Alexei was in awe. General Angeloff was breaking every rule in the book, for him. He knew he would be dead in two minutes and that the general didn't have to do any of this. The general went on, "Colonel Popovich, I hereby award you the Order of the Red Star. For your incredible courage, for your incredible strength, and for your supreme sacrifice for your people." Alexei began to sob. He tried to fight back his emotions, but he faired poorly in stopping the collapse of his composure. He switched his microphone back to manual, so the sound of his weeping wouldn't be broadcast back to Earth. His capsule descended even deeper into the atmosphere. The intense heat of re-entry grew hotter, savagely scorching the outside of his little spacecraft. "Alexei," the general went on, "you only have seconds. The cabin emergency ventilation valve. Alexei, please. You know what I'm talking about." The tone of the general's voice was soft, almost pleading. Alexei looked to his right and down near his boot. The handle of the cabin emergency ventilation valve was right there. He hadn't thought about that. His left hand pressed the radio’s transmit button. "Yes, sir. I understand. And thank you. Thank you for everything." Alexei replied. He leaned down to his right and firmly gripped the small steel bar which was the release handle. His thoughts went to his beautiful Valentina. Alexei pulled the handle outward until it locked into position, then quickly turned it to the right. It vibrated slightly as it opened the ventilation plates to the nothingness of space. The faint hissing sound was actually comforting. His spacesuit protected his body, but on his face he felt the coldness as the air inside the cabin was sucked out into the vast nothingness of space. He could see his breath in the rapidly thinning air, and then, everything quickly faded to black. In the Control Room, an alarm sounded at the console of one of the flight directors. The man sitting there glanced up from his monitor to look at General Angeloff. "General Angeloff, sir! Instrumentation indicates that Major Popovich has opened the emergency ventilation valve! The capsule is losing atmosphere! Cabin pressure is almost at zero!" he explained. The general shook his head in disagreement. He turned to face the flight director, then politely corrected him. "No, sir. COLONEL Popovich opened the emergency ventilation valve. He has executed his escape plan." Several people in the room nodded in knowing agreement. Some wept softly. Of the generals in the room, some stood at attention and saluted. Angeloff was already doing just that. Standing straight up tall, shoulders back, head straight, fingers locked in position at the tip of his cap. His eyes were locked on the immense radar projection map that filled the entire wall in front of everyone. Throughout the entire mission, it had been the primary focus of everyone's attention. The little white dot representing Alexei's spacecraft still moved on that map, showing everyone exactly where the capsule was. Tears silently formed in the corners of Angeloff's eyes. He fought to keep focused on that tiny white dot. He never blinked. Head nurse Tatyana Serova sat at the Medical Program console. She reported the information what was streaming across her computer monitor, fighting her tears to do so. "Colonel Popovich has lost consciousness, sir. His heart rate is dropping rapidly. He will enter cardiac arrest any second." Everyone in the room gazed sadly at General Angeloff for a long moment. He stood at attention, holding his salute. An assistant flight director saw the capsule update on his monitor first. A warning indicator blinked ominously on the screen. He wondered if he should tell the general. Biting his lip for a moment, he finally decided he should speak. "Instrumentation shows that internal cabin temperature is rising. Probably a hull breach. Temperature inside is at 135 degrees celsius… and rising quickly." He turned to look at nurse Tatyana at the Medical station. She shook her head while answering the question before he asked it. "Popovich’s heart stopped 10 seconds ago," she said sadly. The assistant flight director carried on, updating everyone on the the capsule’s status. "Inside temperature is 150 degrees… 160 degrees… 170… 180… 190." He looked over at his other monitor and read aloud the numbers he saw. "Outside hull temperature is over 1800 degrees celsius. The Vostok capsule isn't designed to handle that for this long. It'll be breaking up any moment." Nervous eyes watched the radar projection screen on the wall. The small white dot representing the falling capsule continued moving down the display, slowly getting closer to the bottom. Suddenly, it stopped moving; indicating that the capsule had broken up, at about 37,800 meters. The sounds of crying grew louder. Some personnel sobbed heavily. A heavy sickening pallor hung over the room. They had lost a friend. General Minsky stepped forward, confronting the now mourning General Angeloff. "You're cosmonaut is DEAD, Angeloff. I hope you're happy. I knew this space program farce was a waste of time… and money. Now it's a waste of human life." The slender general looked Minsky directly in the eyes. "Get out of my Cosmodrome! Or I swear I will shoot you myself!" he ordered angrily. "Gladly!" was Minsky’s reply. He turned and walked towards the now unlocked and open Control Room doors. He turned quickly and began another scolding tirade. "Just so you know... ," he began, almost in a bragging tone of voice. "When I get back to Moscow, I'm going to see that you're court martialed. You violated every law in the military handbook. You’ve threatened a superior officer. It is YOU should be SHOT for that… but I'll settle for your resignation. You can retire within the next week or so, and I’ll drop the court martial request." He stood there defiantly, with his arms crossed in front of him. A smug look crossed his face. "Oh…," he went on, "all those little things you promised MAJOR Popovich before he burned to death. Those 'little things' don't matter. They're insignificant." The way he loudly accented 'burned to death' tore into many people's hearts, especially General Angeloff's. He slowly crossed to where Minsky stood. His fists clenched tightly. His arms rigid down at his side. Everyone in the room expected him to punch Minsky at any second. They stood motionless in fear and anticipation of what might happen next. Angeloff leaned in close to Minsky's face and spoke slowly and surely, and loud enough for all to hear. "When Premier Khrushchev appointed me to this position, I made sure of one thing. I have ultimate authority here. You're not sh*t while you're standing in front of me. You're wrong about a lot of things. There’ll be no court martial. But you might consider resigning. YOU challenged MY authority on MY base. Bad move on your part." Angeloff pointed towards the door, then ordered a final time. "Get out! Know this, you'll never set foot in my Cosmodrome again. I guarantee that!" Minsky sulked momentarily, then he turned to go. The slim general spoke once more. The power of his words keeping Minsky from leaving. "And Minsky, you're wrong about something else too. Those promises I made to Popovich... those 'little things' aren't like you think they are. Those 'little things' aren't little... they're everything! Especially to a dying man. And I keep my promises… to Alexei and to you." A look of utter determination swept over Angeloff. Everyone saw it. Even General Minsky. Minsky was amazed at how this small man suddenly seemed half a meter taller. Doubt whelmed up in him and he did his damnedest to hide it from Angeloff. Angeloff continued. "Alexei was a good man. Those little things are all his family has left of him now. And I promise YOU that they will receive everything that I promised HIM they would." General Minsky stood motionless to a moment. A look of realization now on his face. A solitary thought burning its way into the center of his brain. Perhaps the little things ARE important. ISAAC���������� Category:Blog posts